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Sanchez was in the hallway. His tie was loose, his shirt had sweat stains all up and down it and in the rucksack over his left shoulder sat an uneaten baked quinoa falafel sandwich. He puffed out like a guy who’d just won a sack race, in a heatwave, dressed as Darth Vader.

‘How‘s your day?’ said Sara-Caterina-Carlotta as she took his bag, scuzzy folded corduroy jacket, and rolled up copy of The Economist, and pecked the reddest bit of his cheek.

‘Well, ya know…said Sanchez, shrugging. ‘It was, well…’

Sanchez thought about his day. There had been no earthquakes, wildfires or volcanic eruptions. No airplanes had crashed five minutes after take-off killing everyone on board. In overcrowded developing nations no apartment blocks had suddenly collapsed trapping a whole Zumba class in the basement gym. All across the States school days had begun and ended to the sound of riotously excited laughter without some kid who’d never had a girlfriend and spent way too long online showing up with a semi-automatic. In dusty Middle Eastern plains government forces had not peppered a bunch of riotously excited people with sponge rounds, rubber bullets, tear gas or live ammunition. No one had been decapitated, anywhere.

In Berlin, not far from the building where Adolf Hitler’s doctor had prescribed him methamphetamine, no one had driven a hired van into some diners sitting outside a vegan deli. While in a small English town, not far from a chemical weapons research establishment, no Russians had been hospitalised after being exposed to nerve agent by spooks, or hoods, or hit men, or someone who just plain couldn’t abide them.

Elsewhere, the American president had not declared war on North Korea, or Iran, or Liechtenstein. The leaders of North Korea and Iran had not declared war on America, or each other. Liechtenstein had not been invaded by Switzerland, again. And those Hondurans and El Salvadorians were getting along just fine.

No major construction companies had gone into liquidation owing millions of pounds and throwing workers to the wolves. No retail empires had gone down the crapper blaming the internet, and business tax and everything except sweatshop products no one wants. And nobody cracked open a bottle of Dom Perignon after making a packet shorting on failing construction firms and retail empires.

Worldwide, no one was gunned down, stabbed or had acid thrown over them. No young actors were sexually molested. A guy called Enrico Duarte Grossmann didn’t suffer a cardiac arrest after eating an x-tra long double dog and chicken fondue burger in a slider shop in Cement City, Michigan. No one put their heads in their hands and full-on regretted the way they’d voted.

And in offices up and down the land no one made a third of all staff redundant and then chewed out the survivors when they failed to hit targets. Or maybe they did.

“That’s nice,’ said Sara-Caterina-Carlotta, wrinkling her nose and patting him delicately on the reddest bit of his cheek. ‘Now, you want to hear about my day? You’re not going to believe what happened on the unit.’

Submissions for EPIZOOTICS! #3 are now being accepted for publication in
late 2018. We invite submissions of literary criticism, poetry, fiction, microfiction, artwork, photography, translations and interviews.

In particular, we would like to develop a forum for questions concerning the anthropocene, the post-human, the ecocritical, the phenomenological, the spatial, the philosophical, the contemporary and the migratory. There is no set theme. However, we are looking for experimental, philosophical, contemporary and risk-taking material.

General Submission Guidelines

We do accept simultaneous submissions, but please notify us immediately if your work is accepted elsewhere.

Poetry and fiction can be of any length. Please send 3-5 shorter poems, or one long poem/sequence. Fiction can be short – up to 100 words, or long – up to 5,000. We are happy to publish reviews and essays on recent books and anthologies also.

All work must not have been previously published, either in print or online. We write to contributors as soon as a decision is made.

We’re really excited to announce that, as of June 2018, EPIZOOTICS! #3 is in development. The call for submissions will be released shortly, and we will also be working hard to commission some excellent work that explores and critiques what it means to be a contemporary animal. As usual, the issue will feature prose, poetry, essays, reviews, artwork and everything in between.

Call For Submissions

Photo courtesy of Phil Elverum

Submissions for EPIZOOTICS! #2 are now being accepted for publication in
early 2017. We invite submissions of literary criticism, poetry, microfiction, artwork, photography, translations and interviews.

In particular, we would like to develop a forum for questions concerning the anthropocene, the post-human, the ecocritical, the phenomenological, the spatial, the philosophical, the contemporary and the migratory. There is no set theme. However, we are looking for experimental, philosophical, contemporary and risk-taking material.

General Submission Guidelines

We do accept simultaneous submissions, but please notify us immediately if your work is accepted elsewhere.

Poetry and fiction can be of any length. Please send 3-5 shorter poems, or one long poem/sequence. Fiction can be short – up to 100 words, or long – up to 5,000. We are happy to publish reviews and essays on recent books and anthologies also.

All work must not have been previously published, either in print or online. We write to contributors as soon as a decision is made.